The Touch of Water
by Penny Ten
Summary: Neniel has lived peacefully in her village for seventeen years, not knowing that she possesses an unusual gift, a gift that could destroy her, and everyone that she holds dear. AU
1. Prologue

**Hello everyone :-) This is my first fic reposted. I had it up a while ago but then took it down for some reason unknown to me... Anyway, it's going back up again. Unfortunately I only have the first few chapters down so I'll post those but then there's going to be a bit of a wait. I'll try not to be too long... **

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><p>Gléowyn sighed as the rain pounded against the thatched roof of the cottage. She could hear the wind howling through the trees as if having a life of it's own, reminding her of stories she had heard as a child of cruel spirits haunting the living.<p>

She sighed once more, expecting at any moment to hear the tell-tale wails of her grandaughter's awakening. Gléowyn hoped for the sake of her daughter that this would not be so. Déorwyn had finally managed to put the babe to sleep not but one hour ago.

Sighing for the third time that evening, Gléowyn continued stitching the tear in the faded brown tunic. Letting her mind wonder, her thoughts went to the well being of Éadmód, her daughter's husband.

The thought of being out on a night like this sent a shiver down her spine, but she knew that it was necessary for the protection of the village, and her family.

He had been out with the village patrol for almost two weeks now. Times were getting darker and the land of Rohan was no longer the peaceful place Gléowyn remembered from her childhood, with the wide, open spaces and lush, green fields, free to roam at ones content.

No. Times were different now. Orc sightings were a common occurrence, and rarely a month passed without the warning bells sounding due to a troop of the foul beasts being spotted by the ceaseless gaurding of the men of the watchtower.

Gléowyn often wished that Éadmód had been assigned to a post at the watchtower, to sound the alarm, but never to leave the safety of the village. 'Yes, he would be safe then', she mused, 'And my daughter and I would not have to be put through this heartache and fear every time his patrol is called out'.

Setting her stitching down, Gléowyn peered out the creaking wooden shutters to the dark canvas of the night sky, riddled with countless stars, looking like little candles in the gloom. Squinting into the dark she thought she could hear a cry, a harsh call in the night, but closing the shutters with an all too audible bang, she settled herself in her comfortable chair once more, thinking it was most likely just the sound of the wind. Éadmód was not there.

With another sigh, Gléowyn once more returned to her stitching. She could not help but contemplate what would happen if the men were to bring the news that she and daughter had been dreading all these years, since Éadmód had been recruited. Déorwyn would surely be heartbroken and the babe needed a father. Her small family would surely fall apart with the death of Éadmód.  
>Another shrill cry came from outside and this time there was no mistaking it for the wind. A second noise reached Gléowyn's ears and with a start she realised that it was the sound of a horse's neigh.<p>

Jumping up from her chair beside the fire, Gléowyn crossed the small room and once more peered out the shutters. Yes, there was no mistaking it.

Approaching the village was a single horse which appeared to be carrying two people. Gléowyn's heart lurched in her chest. Could one of the men be injured and returning? Gléowyn worried that her fears could be coming true. Her pale face stared out into the darkness, trying to catch a glimpse of who it was, her frail hands clutching the sides of the shutters.

Her fears were for naught though, as she soon realised that they did not have the armour of the Mark on them, and this was no horse of the Rohirrim. It was far too stocky, almost like a cart horse belonging to a farmer, certaintly not one of the swift horses of her people.

Gléowyn's heart lurched again as she realised that these were strangers. But surely if they meant trouble they would come in larger numbers? 'I am getting far too paranoid in old age. No, not old age, troubled times', she told herself, with a grim smile.

The two riders approached the gates of the village and the taller of the two dismounted. Gléowyn could see that it was quite obviously a man. Looking closer she saw that he had dark hair and a pale face. This meant the strangers were not Rohirrim. _Most likely Gondorian_, thought Gléowyn with a shake of her head. What were they doing out here?  
>The man then proceeded to help the other rider down. <em>Ahh, so one of them is injured<em>.

Gléowyn peered closer at the second rider who was hooded with a large, black cloak, wrapped the whole way around them. Once dismounted, the howling wind whipped the cloak of the smaller rider behind them and Gléowyn could see that it was a woman, and a heavily pregnant one at that too. The round stomach protruding from between the sides of the cloak. Judging by the size her, Gléowyn could tell she was rather far along.

Her curiosity got the better of her as she called down her daughter, softly so as not to disturb the sleeping baby. Déorwyn swiftly walked down the stairs to find her mother wearing an old cloak, opening the door to their cottage.

'Mother! Were do you think you are going on a night like this?', Déorwyn scolded, minding to keep her voice down.

'Hush child. Do not scold me as though I am a child with no sense. I am not yet too old to have lost my wits.' Gléowyn reprimanded. 'There are two strangers approaching the village and one of them appears to be pregnant. I am going to see what I can do.'

'Well mother, if you do intend to go out in the darkness of night to meet with two strangers, then I certaintly _do_ fear that you have indeed lost your wits!' she exclaimed, a frown marring her pale face. 'These people could be dangerous! Mother, you cannot take the risk!'

'Déorwyn I am going out there whether you agree with it or not. I am not yet too paranoid that I will leave a pregnant woman out in a storm! Now you may help me by gathering clean blankets as they will no doubt be frozen, or you may stand there scowling all night,' Gléowyn said firmly. And with that she pulled up the hood of her cloak and strode out into the darkness.

By this time the two strangers had made it up to the gate and were being held back by the sentry, Gléadmod. Gléowyn rushed over to ease the situation and try to help. Gléadmod would not be in the best of moods considering he had been put on sentry duty in the middle of a storm. He was usually the unlucky soul who managed to pull the short straw, and was constantly being teased for his neverending bad luck.

'Gléadmod!' Gléowyn cried against the pounding rain. 'Gléadmod, let these people pass! Can not you see that the lady is with child? You would not leave a pregnant woman out in a fierce storm, would you?' Gléadmod glanced over at Gléowyn to see her greying hair plastered to her head, intense blue eyes glaring at him. He gave an involuntary gulp. He knew better than to get into an argument with Gléowyn, who was famous around the village for having an extremely fiery temper.

'Nay, I would not, Gléowyn,' stated Gléadmod, unlocking the heavy bolts crossing the gate. And with that, Gléadmod pushed open the heavy wooden doors of the gate, the loud creaking audible even over the pounding rain and howling wind. The two strangers then crossed through into the village, the man supporting the woman as best he could. Gléadmod rushed over to help, supproting the woman from the other side. 'We must bring her to the healer, Gléowyn!' He cried over the noise of the storm.

'No, Gléadmod, Rowena's house is the other side of town. She must be brought inside as quickly as possible. My cottage is not far. We shall bring her there, then you may rush over to Rowena's house and bring her as swiftly as you can.' The two men then walked with the woman while Gléowyn led the way to her cottage. The sheets of rain hammering into them, causing the ground to become a muddy, brown stream. Not a moment too soon they saw the warm, yellow glow of the front door of Gléowyn's cottage being opened. They quickly procceded into the warm room, a roaring fire in the hearth at the opposite end. The two men then settled the woman into the large chair situated to the right of the hearth.

'Swiftly, Gléadmod! Bring Rowena, she will be needed!' said Gléowyn, gently shoving Gléadmod out the front door and into the harsh weather once more. She turned to see the strange Gondorian man kneeling before what she assumed to be his wife, and shooting Gléowyn odd glances every now and then. Déorwyn was helping her out of her sodden clothing and wrapping her in the blankets she had warmed by the fire.

The man trusted this strange Rohirrim lady, and he was by no means in a position to reject her kind hospitality, so he continued to help his wife warm up by the fire. He hadn't been able to understand what his hosts were saying as they were speaking in Rohirric, and while he did know a few words, he was by no means fluent. 'Do you speak common?' He asked the old lady.

'Aye, that I do, and a good thing that I do as well, as your wife seems to be in quite a situation.' Gléowyn said absentmindedly, as she was making hot tea by the stove. 'Déorwyn, take this man up to my room so he may change into some dry clothes. You may give him something of Éadmód's to wear.' she said in Rohirric to her daughter.

The man then found himself being usherred up the old wooden stairs to a room on the far side of the hall. The younger woman then set a pair of breeches and a faded green shirt on the bed before him, and left the room. He donned the clothes quickly before returning downstairs, sitting himself in the chair beside his wife and stroking her dark, wavy hair. Her forhead was fevered but she seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Gléowyn offered him a cup of tea which he accepted gratefully. 'Now Sir, if you would be so kind as to tell me how your pregnant wife and yourself came to be travelling in a storm so far from your home.' Gléowyn asked, taking a sip of her tea.

'Aye, that I will do, kind lady. My wife and I have been travelling from our home in Minas Tirith. I know what you will say - why in middle earth would you bring your pregnant wife travelling? Well I can tell you that she was not far along when we left.' He looked down at the floor, elbows on knees, dark strands of his shoulderlength hair flopping over his grey eyes. 'I know, that is no excuse. I should never have let this happen. She just insisted that we leave, she would not stay any longer. She-' he gave a quiet sob, 'she said she would leave without me.'

Gléowyn sat back in the old wooden chair she had brought in from the kitchen and watched the tired looking man sitting opposite her. He ran a pale hand through his unruly dark hair and took another sip of tea. 'Can you tell me where your wife wanted to go?' Gléowyn asked, smiling comfortingly at the man.

'Have you ever heard of the elves?' he asked, looking up at her with a queer gleam in his eyes.

'Only from old stories and legend, nothing more. My mother was never one to believe in those old wives tales and discouraged the telling of them. I, however, have always been interested in the old legends, but I am afraid I will not be able to tell you much about them. I am sorry but why ask me about elves?' The man looked back to his wife, a loving expression in his eyes, and continued with his story.

'During her first month of pregnancy, my wife began to experiance strange dreams. They did not make much sense at first, merely strange voices calling out to her. Then the voices began to get a little clearer, telling her to seek out a place named Imladris, for there our daughter will be safe.' He placed a hand lovingly over his wife's protruding stomach. 'My wife and I did not understand the meaning of these dreams, but she began to get frightened, concerned for the health of our unborn daughter.'

The man's eyes glazed over, lost in memory. Gléowyn placed a reassuring hand over his arm and urged him to continue. 'I tried to reassure her that everything would be fine, that they were merely dreams, but...but she would not listen. Then one night the voice in the dream came to her clearer than before. It spoke of a prophecy - a prophecy concerning our child. It said how she, and three others, would play important parts in a war to come. It said how she would be invaluable to the forces of good. However, there were others who knew about her, others who would want to put her to evil use.

Gléowyn lifted her head to look up at the pale man. 'What do you think this means?' she asked, astonishment clear in her blue eyes.

'We do not know for certain, but the voice in the dream once more told my wife to seek out Imladris, for there her questions would be answered, and the truth unveiled. We decided to take the matter to the Steward, Lord Ecthelion. We did not know what else to do and she was getting more panicked with each passing day. We asked, but he too had not heard of this place named Imladris. Hope once more left us and we despaired.'

Gléowyn watched him while he spoke. The fire sending shadows dancing across his face, outlining his high cheekbones and showing the dark circles beneath his eyes. 'But it would seem that fortune was with us after all, as the Steward's son, Denethor, overheard our conversation. He brought us to his private study, were we would be undisturbed. There, he told us all he knew of Imladris, or Rivendell as some call it. He told us that it is the home of the half-elf, Lord Elrond, a very wise being who may know the answers to my wife's dreams. She insisted we leave immediately. That was around five months ago now,' he said with a half-hearted sigh. 'And so, we came to be here.'

The room was silent while Gléowyn took in all that she had heard. The only sound coming from the crackling of the fire and the howling of the wind outside. Gléowyn felt as though she were once more a small child, listening to her father tell her stories of the elves beside the fire, on a stormy night such as this one. As a child she had always loved to hear the stories, but never for a moment did she believe any of them to be true. Her mother had made sure of that. And yet, here she was, listening to this strange man speaking of prophecies and elves as though from one of the very same stories, and she found herself believing him.

She was brought out of her thoughts from a low moan coming from the woman. The woman's eyes snapped open as she let out another moan and clutched her stomach. The man jumped up and knelt before his wife. 'My love, what ails you?' His eyes were wide and he looked terrified.

'Déorwyn, hurry, boil some water and find clean sheets! I fear the baby is on it's way. Oh, where is Rowena?' Gléowyn ushered the man out of the room just as his wife let out another groan.

'Leave me be, I cannot leave my wife!' The man protested, turning around to return to his wife. Gléowyn placed a hand on his back and not too gently shoved him through the door and into the small kitchen.

'You can and you will. It will do your wife no good to see you panicking when she is already in a frail enough state as it is!' Gléowyn replied, shutting the man out of the room. He was left to sit on a rickety old chair at the kitchen table. The time passed and he did not know for how long he had been sitting there, hands clasped together, sweat gathering on his brow as he listened to his wife's screams from the other room. At some point in the night he had heard the front door opening and a new voice joining the others. He knew that this must have been the healer, Rowena, as he recalled. He could sit there no longer. He took to pacing the floor, back and forth across the tiles of the kitchen.

A little while later and he could hear the cries of a new born baby. The door opened to reveal Déorwyn walk in carrying a pile of bloody sheets. The man immediatley jumped up and strode past the woman and into the living room. His wife was lying on a large pile of blankets on the floor in front of the fire, back propped up against the back of the chair. Her pale face was drenched in sweat, dark hair plastered to her head. But that was not what caught his eye. There, lying in his wife's tired arms, was a baby wrapped up in a blanket, dark tufts of hair peeking out from the top. He rushed over to his wife and child and placed a kiss on his wife's brow. She was utterly exhausted, deep shadows beneath her tired eyes betraying the smile on her face. She looked up to her husband and kissed him.

'Her name is to be Neniel.' she said, her voice a mere whisper. 'You must travel to Imladris, my love.' She told her husband. 'There you can find the answers to this riddle. But you must promise me, my love-' she looked up to him, tears evident in her grey eyes, 'you must promise me to return to our daughter.' He stroked the hair out of her eyes.

'I can do better, love, I promise to return to my daughter, and my wife.' he said, tears catching in his eyes as he placed his hand on her cheek. 'I shall return to you both. That I will promise to do.'

'No, my love. I can feel death seeping into my body. I am not long for this world now.' She said gently, placing her free hand over her husbands.

'Do not leave me! You must hold on. For me...for our child.' He said, his voice breaking. The tears that had been gathering now falling freely down his face. 'You are simply tired my love, it is not your time - not yet, please!' She smiled weekly up at her husband's tear stained face and placed a loving kiss on his forehead, brushing a strand of his unruly, dark hair behind his ear. Looking down at her daughter she placed a kiss on her brow.

'You must do this for Neniel, my love. Promise me,' she siad him, looking into his grey eyes, the eyes that she loved so much. The same eyes that now graced her daughter. 'Do you promise me?'

The man looked upon his wife, her dark, wavy hair falling gently around her pale face. She had never looked more beautiful to him. He kissed her softly on the lips. 'I promise.' Those two words were all he was able to manage. She smiled up at him again and then slowly closed her eyes, never to open them again. The man sat beside his wife while she drew her last breath. He then weeped into his hands.

Gléowyn watched him from the corner of the room, her eyes tearing over. She watched as the man placed a finale kiss on the brow of his wife, watched as he wiped a tear from her still-warm cheek. She watched as he took the child from her lifeless arms and looked into his daughter's eyes. He then walked across the room and placed the child in Gléowyn's arms. 'Would you look after her? I do not know what else to do. I cannot take her with me, she is too young.' The man's tear-filled eyes looked into Gléowyn's, pleading with her.

'Of course, we would not ask you to bring her. She shall be safe here.' Gléowyn placed a reassuring hand on the man's shoulder. 'We will make sure of that.'

The man thanked her with a smile that did not reach his eyes. He bowed his head to her and gathered his belongings. He took one last look at his daughter sleeping peacefully in Gléowyn's arms, and strode out into the night.

And the little girl slept on, blissfully unaware that her small family had just been ripped apart.

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><p><strong>Sorry about the cheesiness of the death scene. I tried but there was just no avoiding it. Hope it was okay :-)<strong>


	2. A Serious Discovery

**I forgot to mention earlier that Neniel will not be a Mary Sue. Hopefully not anyway... I know it may seem that way now. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of The Rings or anything that the genious, J.R.R Tolkien created. :(**

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><p>17 years later...<p>

Neniel lay on her back, the cold of the rock seeping in through her dress. There was a light drizzle coming down from the sky which was gently soaking through her clothing. Neniel didn't mind however, as she had always enjoyed the rain. It felt to her as though it could wash away all of her troubles. Rain was a renewer. Turning her head to the side, Neniel could see a small spider making it's way up the rock towards her. She shuddered as a result and blew it away. She had never liked spiders, much to the amusement of her best friend, Holdwyn.

Once Neniel felt she was safe from the spider, she turned her head back to the sky. She watched as the stormy grey swirled and danced above her. Grey sky... grey like her eyes. Neniel had always hated the colour of her eyes; a dull grey, compared to everyone elses brilliant blue eyes. Though she hated the colour, she had always been proud of her eyes. They were her father's - her real father's. Her foster parents had never tried to keep secret from her the fact that they weren't her real parents, and considering that she was the only one in the village who did not have flaxen hair or bright blue eyes, it was rather obvious.

She had been told that her mother had died gving birth to her. Her father, however, was a complete mystery. He had left on the night of her birth to find an elvish settlement, promising to return to her. He never did. Her foster parents had given up hope, telling her not to dwell on it. However, Neniel knew that she would never give up hope, though with each year that hope got smaller and smaller. She still waited though, waited for a man with grey eyes and a pale face surrounded by dark,unruly hair.

Neniel remebered a time two years ago when she thought her father had returned. A group of Gondorian soldiers had rested in the village as a few of their number had been injured. She had convinced Rowena, the village healer, to allow her to help with the healing in order to find out as much as she could about the Gondorians. It was to no avail though as none of the soldiers knew who she was.

Neniel sighed, she knew she aught to be getting back know - it was getting late. Her grandmother would not be pleased with her. She climbed down from the large rock, situated just outside the village. She strolled up the worn path to the large wooden gate, passing a few of the cottages until she reached her own, thanking the gods that it was so close to the gate, as she did not wish to be much later.

Neniel opened the old front door, creaking as it always did, and entered the living room. Her grandmother was sitting in her usual chair by the fire. 'Neniel, where have you been? You know you are to come in when it starts to rain. Look at your clothes, they are soaked through! Go on up and get into some dry things or you will catch your death, child!' her grandmother scolded, sitting up in her chair.

'Yes Nana,' Neniel smiled, and skipped upstairs. She was in a very light-hearted mood, she always was when it was raining. She entered the small room she shared with her sister, Dérnwyn, who was sitting in front of the mirror, trying out different ways to style her hair. She was to be married in the summer and could talk of little else. Neniel laughed at the strange style of plait she had gathered on her head which in her opinion made it look as though Dérnywn had a rather strange growth. Dérnwyn scowled at her and asked, 'Is it really that bad?'

'No, Dérnwyn,' replied Neniel, attempting unsuccessfully to hide her smile. 'It merely looks as though you have grown an extra head.' Dérnwyn chucked a pillow at Neniel who laughed and began to peel off her wet clothing.

'You do not have to be so mean about it, Neniel! It is not a joke, this decision is really important!''

'Do you mean the decision to marry a man you will barely see or the style of your hair for your wedding day?' Neniel asked, pulling on her spare dress.

'Éogar is a good man, Neniel. You should not speak so unkindly of him!' Dérnywn scolded, unwinding the braid.

'I did not speak unkindly of him, Dérnwyn. I merely said that you will not have much time to be with him. He is joining the muster of Rohan as you well know. Surely you realise that this means he will not be with you much while you try to raise a family!'

'Of course I realise this, Neniel! But I willing to make this sacrifice. I love him, and hopefully you will find someone you feel this way for some day too,' said Dérnwyn with a sickly sweet tone to her voice that did not go unnoticed by Neniel.

Neniel knew that she too would have to marry soon. She was coming of age in a year and it would be expected of her. Neniel however, did not feel the same way about marriage as her sister did. She dreaded the day her parents would tell her that they had found her a suitable husband. She left her sister to sort out her hair and went to her mother's room at the end of the hall.

Her mother was lying in bed, blankets piled high on top of her. Her thick, golden hair was strew out across the pillow, her light blue eyes half-closed with exhaustion. She had been sick this last week, but was slowly recovering. Neniel sat beside her bed, picked up the cloth from her bedside table and began to wipe her forehead. 'Have you taken your medicine today, mother?' Neniel asked.

'Yes, your grandmother gave it to me earlier. Stop fussing, child,' her mother smiled. 'Now what was all that noise I heard coming from your room? Have you been mocking Dérnwyn again? You should know better than that.'

'I'm sorry mother, but it really was funny,' Neniel dropped her gaze, her light mood suddenly leaving her.

'Neniel, what is the matter?' her mother asked, concerned.

'Oh mother, I do not want Dérnwyn to leave. It is not fair!' Her mother stroked the hair off her face and smiled at her.

'You will still be able to visit her, Neniel. She is not going that far.'

'I know, but it will not be the same here without her.'

'Well, we do not have to worry about this till the summer. Cheer up, Neniel. That reminds me - I have some very exciting news for you. Brytta wishes to court you!' Neniel's face dooned an expression of pure horror which her mother failed to notice. 'Isn't that wonderfull news? Brytta is a respectable man and will make an excellent husband!' Déorwyn looked at her daughter, expecting to see a face full of joy, instead seeing a face more down-trodden than before. Déorwyn knew what was coming next, this argument had been going on for some time now.

'Mother, I have told you I have no wish to be married yet! You know this. Why can you not just leave me be?'

'Neniel you know you will have to marry some day. You do not wish to become an old maid, do you?' Her mother gave her a stern look then continued. 'Besides, you would not be leaving the village if you were to marry Brytta so it would not be that bad.' Déorwyn sat up in bed and gave her daughter a reassuring hug. Neniel climbed into the large bed with her mother and curled up beside her. She considered continuing to argue but she knew it would do no good. Besides, she did not want to distress her mother while she was feeling ill.

She moved closer to her mother and placed an arm around her slim waist. 'No, it will not be that bad, mother.'

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><p>The next morning dawned bright, with a clear blue sky and a cold bite to the air. Neniel was making her way to Rowena's house as her mother was in need of more medication. She ambled slowly through the streets, taking advantage of the good weather. Rowena's house was far across the other side of the village so Neniel sped up her pace. She eventually arrived and smiled as she approached the door. Neniel loved Rowena's house, it was in her own words ''eccentric''. She walked through the red front door and entered the brightly coloured room furnished with a number of odd looking contraptions. Neniel called for Rowena, thinking she would be upstairs, and instead found Holdwyn skipping lightly down the rickety steps.<p>

Holdwyn had arrived at the village four years previously, having been sent there by her family who lived in Edoras. They wanted her to become a healer, something that Holdwyn was only to happy to agree with, and so Holdwyn had moved to Neniel's village to gain personnal training from Rowena (who was a renowned healer). The fact that Holdwyn's parents and Rowena were old friends helped.

Holdwyn, in all sense of the word, was beautiful; waist-length golden hair coming down in perfect waves, surrounding a beautiful porcelain face containing a set of the bluest eyes Neniel had ever seen. They were like looking into a clear summer's sky with not a cloud to mar their perfection, rimmed by an even more intense blue around the edges.

And it was not just her physical attributes that were beautiful; every move Holdwyn made was graceful, as though she danced rather than walked, her golden hair sitting perfectly, always worn down as Holdwyn had never liked the style of the braids. Her voice sounded like music to the ears with a laugh to match.

There was no doubt about it that Holdwyn was the most beautiful girl in the village. She was the envy of all the girls, and many of the young men of the village held affection for her. There had been many attempts to gain her hand in marriage, but Holdwyn insisted that she would not marry - she wanted to focus all of her attention on becoming a healer, an aspect that Neniel greatly admired.

'Hello, Holdwyn,' laughed Neniel, walking over to her friend. 'It is a wonder you never fall down those stairs!'

'Neniel, you should know better than that by now,' her friend replied, smiling mischieviously at her.

'Ah Holdwyn, I shall catch you making a fool of yourself one day, you will see! Now is Rowena here because I need to pick up some more herbs?'

'No, she is not here but I am perfectly capable of getting them myself,' Holdwyn said, smiling. She walked over to a wonky shelf on the wall and retrieved the strange purple pouch containing the herbs. The two friends then chatted aimlessly, sitting at the round table in the centre of the room, until Neniel announced that she had to to be getting back to her mother.

'Of course, I shall walk back with you. I need to stretch my legs. Besides, this way I can stop you from tripping over your two left feet,' Holdwyn said. Neniel replied by giving her friend a face of mock horror, then the two girls proceeded to make their way back to Neniel's cottage, enjoying the sun warming their backs. They had decided to meet up later in the day, as soon as Neniel had sorted out her mother. Saying their goodbyes, the two friends departed.

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><p>It was late in the afternoon when Neniel made her way to the rock, the orange sun setting in the western horizon. She could see the figure of Holdwyn laying stretched out on the large rock, enjoying the last of the sun's rays. She clambered up the rock to lay out beside her friend, who did not seem to be startled by her sudden appearance. 'Good of you to join me at last, Neniel,' Holdwyn said, her eyes shut against the light. 'I was starting to think you wouldn't come.'<p>

'And miss quality time with you, dear Holdwyn,' Neniel replied. 'Certaintly not! Else I would be stuck in the house listening to Dérnwyn talk of her wedding and her dearest betrothed - ''Oh isn't Éogar so handsome, Neniel? Isn't he so charming? Don't you just love the way his eyes sparckle when he laughs?'' Neniel was standing on top of the rock doing a strange dance. The setting sun casting long shadows on the face of the rock exagerated her movements while she pretended to be her sister. 'It's as though her brain can't function to think of anything else! Honestly Holdwyn, you have it lucky living with Rowena; Dérnwyn is fast becoming a nightmare!'

She had stopped doing her strange impression of Dérnwyn and flopped down beside her friend.

'I wouldn't be too certain of that; if it weren't for meeting up with you I would rarely leave the house - Rowena claims the sun addles with her mind and refuses to go out with me!'

'Rowena always was rather strange,' exclaimed Neniel.

'You can say that again! I fear I shall be the same way too soon if I am not careful. This is why getting out with you is so important!' The two girls laughed as they thought of Rowena's strange antics.

Neniel suddenly stopped laughing as she remembered something she had wanted to discuss. She sat up and looked down at her friend. 'Holdwyn I have some bad news.' She gave her friend a very serious look. Holdwyn almost let a laugh slip out but managed to control herself just in time. Neniel had never been able to make her 'serious face' actually look serious.

'What is it?,' she asked, her face set.

'Brytta wants to court me.' Neniel waited a few moments to let is sink in. What she hadn't expected though was for Holdwyn to start laughing. 'Why are you laughing? This is not funny! I do not even like Brytta! He acts like a child!' This only made Holdwyn laugh harder, tears streaming down her face. Neniel's face was turning redder by the second. 'What is so funny, Holdwyn? I'm being serious! This is no joke!'

Holdwyn laughed harder still, but seeing the colour of Neniel's face, she knew it would not bode well for her to continue. Eventually her laughter died down as she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. 'I'm sorry, Neniel, really, I am.' She took a deep breath of air, calming herself. 'I know this is serious, Neniel,' she said with a porrly-hid smile. Neniel gave her a frown in response and flopped back down on the rock.

Holdwyn looked over at her huffing friend. 'I'm sorry,' she said again, 'Forgive me?

'Alright then,' Neniel said, in a mock-serious tone. 'I forgive you.'

The two girls continued laying in a companionable silence, watching the orange sky slowly darken and listening to the sound of the River Emnet, which ran it's course beside their village. This was a good factor as it meant their lands were always fertile and their crops excellent, especially these past few years.

Neniel could have happily lain there for quite some time but it was starting to get rather cold. She was just about to mention this to Holdwyn when her friend suddenly sat up. She appeared to be looking at somthing coming from the north. Neniel looked in the direction her friend was staring and saw what appeared to be a group of horsemen advancing fast.

Holdwyn jumped up suddenly, startling Neniel. 'Neniel, it's the patrol - they're back!' she exclaimed. Excitment quickly dawned on Neniel's face as she realised that this meant her father was back. The two girls clambered down from the rocks and waited somewhat patiently for the group to arrive.

As the horsemen approached, Neniel realised that Baldor, who was a friend of her fathers, appeared to be holding on to someone infront of him. The person was wearing a dark cloak, the hood of which overshadowed his face. Neniel panicked for a moment, thinking the person to be her father, but that panic swiftly left as she spotted her father riding at the back of the group.

Neniel looked across to her friend to see that she too was watching this stranger intently. The patrol finally arrived and Neniel immediately rushed over to embrace her father who had just dismounted. 'Father!' Neniel said, hugging him tighter. Her father responded by hugging Neniel closer still. The two finally parted and Neniel could see out of the corner of her eye, Baldor, with the help of a few of the other men, carrying down the wounded man, who appeared to be unconcious. Her father then gave her look that meant ''Leave it be, Neniel!''

The group with the wounded man, including Holdwyn, had quickly rushed into the village. Neniel helped her father bring the horse to the stables. 'Who was that man, father?' questioned Neniel. 'Is he one of our people?'

'No, he is not, Neniel,' her father explained.

'Well who is he then?' Neniel persisted, her curiosity roused.

'Not now, Neniel!' replied her father. Neniel then decided to drop it; she recognised that tone and knew it would best not to persist.

* * *

><p>The next day dawned just as bright as the previous. Neniel was once again in a cheerful mood, having forgotten all about the mysterious stranger from yesterday. She walked lightly down the stairs in a fashion similar to that of Holdwyn's (although not half as graceful) and was just about to push open the door to the kitchen when she heard hushed voices coming from the other side.<p>

Now, Neniel was by no means one to listen in on other people's conversations, but she was a very inquisitive person and her curiosity often got the better of her.

She recognised the voices as those of her father and grandmother, and realised with a jolt that they were talking about the wounded man! 'How could I have forgotten about him?' Neniel asked herself. She pressed her ear up against the door and listened intently.

'A large group of orcs, yes,' her father's rich voice came through. 'They had set up camp for the night which was their downfall as we saw the smoke from their fire.'

'Foolish beasts!' her grandmother exclaimed. 'Though it is a good thing they are so dim-witted or we could be in trouble!'

'Anyway,' her father continued, 'we managed to kill them off and there we found him - tied up with various wounds. It was clear he had been poisoned though unfortunatley we did not have the necessary herbs so we realised we had to get him back here.' 'Was he from one of the neighbouring villages?' her grandmother asked.

'No, he had dark hair and pale skin - it was clear he was from Gondor.'

'Travelling alone? Could it be him? Do you think he has returned after all these years?' her grandmother asked.

'I do not know, I did not get to see him when they came all those years ago, but he would be the right age.'

'He could just be an traveller though. We must not get our, or most importantly, Neniel's, hopes up,' her grandmother stated, a serious note to her voice.

'Why would someone travel alone during these times, Gléowyn?' her father replied sternly. Gléowyn cose to ignore this question.

'Did he manage to say anything?' she asked in a hopefull tone.

'We asked him questions but he was very feverish by this point so we did not learn much. We did learn that he goes by the name of Strider though. Does that mean anything to you?' he asked.

Gléowyn was silent for a while, as thought replaying that night in her mind. 'No,' she said at last, 'He did not tell us his name and nor did we ask, something that I sorely regret now.' Her tone was a bitter one. 'Did you find out anything else?'

Éadmód hesitated then said, 'Yes. During his fever he called out her name. He called out Neniel!'

* * *

><p><strong>That's it for now but the next chapter is nearly finished so it shouldn't be too long :-) <strong>


	3. Saying Goodbye

**I finished the chapter! Yay! Three chapters posted in one day! I am proud of myself :-D**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of The Rings or anything created by the genious J.R.R Tolkien :-(**

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><p>Neniel felt her knees give out as she landed with a thunk on the bottom step. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest, beating violently against her ribs. Her father - had he really came back after all these years? She didn't know what to think. Part of her wanted to believe her father; that that man was her <em>real<em> father. But the more sensible part of her mind was telling her that chances were it could just be a lone wanderer. The words of her grandmother kept playing through her mind, _He could just be a traveller though..._

Neniel suddenly realised that the voices of her father and grandmother had stopped. She heard the slow footsteps of her father crossing the kitchen floor. She jumped up, not wanting her family to know that she had heard them, and tried to compose herself and act as though nothing had happened.

The kitchen door opened to see her father standing there. 'Morning, Neniel... How long have you been out here for?' He asked, trying to sound as nonchalent as possible.

'Goodmorning, father,' Neniel said, attempting to smile. 'I just came down for some breakfast. Dérnwyn is being innsufferable as always.' She walked past her father and sat at the kitchen table. 'Have we any of that nice bread left?'

'Yes, I'll get some for you now,' her grandmother said while giving her father an odd look.

'Thankyou, Nana. I'll just take the one piece. I'm off to see Holdwyn this morning and won't be back till lunch.' She took the slice of bread from her grandmother and proceded to eat it. 'I really have to be leaving now,' she said through mouthfuls of bread, 'I don't want to keep Rowena waiting.' And with that she fled through the front door and strode up the lane before her grandmother or father could stop her. She didn't know what she was doing. She couldn't just stride up there and ask him if he was her real father, could she? What would he say? What if he wasn't even her father?

She suddenly stopped walking. She could just turn back and go and listen to Dérnwyn go on about her hair, pretend that nothing had happened, everything could go back to normal. Besides, she already had a father. A father who had been there for her her entire life. Not a father who had abandoned her at birth. And if this man was her real father, surely he would come and seek her out as soon as he was able to. But even so, Neniel knew that she would not turn back now. She was too inquisitive for her own good - she had to find out.

She continued her fast pace up to Rowena's house, ignoring the greetings from the villagers, she had other things on her mind. Eventually she made it up to Rowena's odd looking home, various wind chimes hanging around the door frame. Stopping infront of the door, she took a deep breath. She did not need to knock. Rowena had made it clear years ago that she was welcome to come in anytime. She opened the door and walked into the front room. She could hear familiar voices coming from upstairs but could hear no sign of a man's voice. She quietly walked up the rickety steps and peered around the door of the large room that Rowena used for sick patients.

And there he was; a pale man with a mess of dark hair streaking across the pillow. He had a noble face and Neniel guessed that if he opened his eyes they would be grey. He looked very fevered, his pale skin clammy as he mumbled incoherent words. Holdwyn was sitting beside him wiping his brow with a damp cloth. It was then Neniel noticed Rowena standing there smiling at her, as though she knew she had been coming. Neniel thought she had been quiet in coming up the stairs but then she _was_ rather clumsy.

Holdwyn looked up at her and smiled. 'Are you just going to stand there looking gormless or would you like to come over and help?' Neniel walked over and took a seat on the other side of the bed. 'Here, you can crush these herbs for me,' Neniel took the bowl Holdwyn gave her and began to grind the pestle into the herbs. She found that her mouth had become very dry. 'He's going to be alright,' Holdwyn explained. 'He was poisoned by one of the orc blades but fortunately he got here in time. We just need to break his fever now.' Neniel nodded, she did not know what to say.

That morning, she stayed with Holdwyn and Rowena while they attempted to heal him. She often found herself closely examining his features, looking for some resembalance between them. At around midday his fever finally broke and he slept peacefully in a deep slumber. The three then made there way downstairs. 'Would you like to stay for some lunch, Neniel,' asked Rowena. 'We have plenty here.' Even though Rowena had invited her to stay, it was clear she was itching for her to leave. Her and Holdwyn kept shooting glances at eachother, obviously wanting to have a private conversation. It was not hard for Neniel to figure out what they so desperatly wanted to discuss.

'That's alright, Rowena. I really have to be getting back now; you know how Nana gets.'

'Alright dear, we will see you soon no doubt,' Rowena gave an odd look to Holdwyn, who was looking very serious - something that Neniel had never seen before.

A while later, Neniel found herself arriving at her own front door. The walk from Rowena's had been a complete blur. She had thought that one of her mother's friends had attempted to talk to her, but she could not remember. She found her father and grandmother right where she had left them; sitting at the kitchen table. They were both giving her an odd look, she guessed they knew where she had been all morning. She took a seat opposite her father. 'Neniel...' He started.

'I heard you this morning,' Neniel blurted out before she could stop herself. 'I-I heard you taking about that man and how you thought he was my... father.'

Her father looked a bit put out by this statement but continued on anyway. 'Well, you were definitely not supposed to find out that way, but now that you know, you must not get your hopes up! We don't know anything about this man - he might not be who we think he is.'

'I know, but still... I-I think I need to have a lie down for a little while.' Neniel got up from her chair and smiled at her father. 'I'm fine, really, just a little tired.' Her father did not look at all convinced but let her go nonetheless.

* * *

><p>It had been three days since the arrival of the mysterious man in the village. Three long, hard days for Neniel. Her father had told her not to go to Rowena's, claiming that the poor man would need rest in order to recover, so she had waited. Waited and waited for what seemed to be forever. She ate, slept, talked with her mother, helped Dérnwyn with her hair, and even willingly ran about town doing various errands for her grandmother. Anything to help the time go faster and to keep her mind on other things.<p>

This had helped for the most part, but as soon as Neniel had a second to herself her mind wondered back to the dark-haired stranger. She knew not to get her hopes up. This _had_ happened before afterall... But something inside her told her that this time was different, this _man_ was different. She could feel that something was going to happen. She was almost positive that this man was her father. This thought excited her, but at the same time she was terrified. This could turn her whole life upside down.

Would he want to take her away with him? That scared her more than anything. The thought of leaving her family was unthinkable to her. She would be lost without them. But then again, this man was her family, her real family. She couldn't just ignore that!

'Stop this, Neniel! You're getting ahead of yourself,' she muttered. She didn't even know if he was her father. She was just going by what her gut was telling her. It was not just her though. Neniel knew from the way Rowena and Holdwyn had been talking and the strange looks they had been sharing, that they too knew something was going on.

And of course, Neniel was forgetting one of the most important parts; he had called out her name during his fever! Her father had said so! How would a stranger have known her name? Neniel had made up her mind; this man was her father.

She suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder and whipped round startled, only to find her grandmother standing behind her. 'Oh, hello, nana,' she said, 'How long have you been standing there for?'

'Not long dear, I only just came in.' Gléowyn gave her grandaughter a comforting smile and sat in the chair next to her. 'I know these past few days have been hard for you, Neniel. You've been waiting a long time for this, but you have to remember that you don't know who this person is! I know you are certain that he is your father, and certainly a lot of evidence points towards this, but that still does not make it certain.'

Neniel opened her mouth to interject but Gléowyn held up her hand, silencing her. 'This is why I think that it is time for you to meet him and find out the truth. Your friend, Holdwyn, came down earlier; he is well enough now to speak with you.'

Neniel could feel the beat of her heart in her chest. She was going to meet her father! She couldn't believe it! She suddenly felt a bit sick as the knot which had been present in her stomach for the past few days suddenly tightened. Gléowyn placed her hand on Neniel's and squeezed gently.

'Would you like me to come with you? We can find out together,' she asked. 'I know how nervous you are.'

Neniel considered this for a moment then replied, 'No nana, I'll be alright. I'll go myself, and if I change my mind when I get there, I can always ask Holdwyn to talk to him with me.' Neniel leant in and embraced her grandmother, breathing in the familiar, comforting smell. 'I'll be fine.' She gave her grandmother one more squeeze then got up to leave.

'Good luck, dear. I hope all goes well for you.' Gléowyn walked her to the door then watched as her grandaughter made her way up the cobbled street, and could not help feeling that things were definitely going to change. Sighing to herself, she shut the door.

Neniel slowly walked the familiar path to Rowena's house. Her heart was beating so violently in her chest she thought it would surely burst out. Now that the time had come she suddenly wasn't so sure she wanted to do this. She knew she had to though. She felt as though this was a pivotal moment in her life. She couldn't go back now. She quickened her step in a subconsious attempt to rid herself of her nerves.

All too soon for her liking, Nenial arrived in front of the familiar red doors, the sound of the wind chimes interupting her thoughts. She braced herself before opening the door and stepping into the house. Holdwyn was sitting in the small room, sorting through an old herb box. 'Neniel!' she said, standing up suddenly. She placed the box back on the shelf and walked over to her friend. 'How are you? I'm sorry I havn't been to see you in a few days but, well, you know we've been busy up here.' Holdwyn gave Neniel an apologetic smile and gave her friend a brief hug.

'Think nothing of it, Holdwyn. A man's life is far more important than my worries.' Her stomach gave another sudden lurch as she thought of who the man really was. Holdwyn seemed to sense what was going through her mind as she placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile.

'It will be alright, Neniel. Rowena is with him now. Would you like me to go up with you?'

'No, Holdwyn,' Neniel sighed, 'I'll go myself. I'll be down shortly.' Neniel made her way up the rickety stairs. The wooden door to the room was closed and Neniel could hear voices coming from the other side. 'This is it,' she told herself. She gently knocked on the door and the voices from inside immediatley stopped.

The old door creaked open to show Rowena standing on the other side. 'Come in, child,' she said, ushuring Neniel into the small room. Neniel's eyes were immediately drawn to the old bed in the corner of the room. He was sitting up with his back against the wall. His face was pale though had more colour than before. Deep, dark circles lay beneath his eyes, standing out against the paleness of his skin. Grey eyes stared up at her with a tired, but somehow still intense, stare. Even just by seeing him sitting up in bed, Neniel could tell that he was very tall, she could see the outline of his long legs beneath the covers.

She felt very unnerved beneath the stare of those intense eyes, but he gave her a sudden smile which brought warmth to the icy stare and immediately calmed her. She found herself smiling back at him. 'Neniel, this is Strider,' Rowena told her, taking her by the arm and leading her to the bed. She plonked Neniel down in the chair beside the bed. Neniel was too nervous to become angry at the fact that Rowena was treating her as though she were a child.

'Hello Strider,' she managed to mumble, inwardly cursing herself. At this rate he _would_ think she was a child.

Strider gave her another warm smile, 'It is nice to meet you, Neniel. I've heard a lot about you.'

Rowena cleared her throat from the back of the room. 'I have to attend to some things downstairs so I shall leave you two for a bit.' She gave them a warm smile and left the room, closing the door behind her. 'I'll be back up shortly,' she called from the other side of the door.

Neniel was left sitting alone in the room with Strider. It was time to learn the truth. Though how could she ask a stranger such a personal question? Surely she couldn't just ask him if he was her father, could she? She didn't know what to to do.

Strider solved her problem by saying, 'I must thank you, Neniel. I was told you helped me to overcome my fever.'

'I only did what Rowena and Holdwyn told me to do. I have little skill in the art of healing. Rowena has tried to teach me but...,' she gave a small laugh, 'things did not work well. Rowena actually had to ban me from the healing rooms for a while. It seems that the particular combination of herbs I tried to use was lethal. It was lucky Holdwyn figured it out before I had a chance to administer them.'

Strider gave a deep chuckle, 'Well then I am glad Rowena and Holdwyn were here.' Strider's tone suddenly became serious. 'I cannot thank your people enough; if the patrol had not found me when they did I fear I would not have made it, and it was most important that I got here.'

The knot in her stomach gave another squeeze. He was going to tell her! 'So, you meant to come here?' Her heart was beating so fast she was sure that he could hear it.

Strider gave a slow nod. 'Yes. I came here to find you.' Neniel averted her gaze; she found she could not look him in the eye.

Strider said in a low voice, 'Neniel, I know who you think I am... I'm really sorry, Neniel, but... I'm not your father.'

Neniel could feel her heart sink in her chest. The knot that had been present in her stomach for three days now, vanished. It was over. She would never meet her real father now. He wasn't coming back for her. Neniel could feel the familiar burning sensation behind her eyes. She could not stop the tears that suddenly flooded. She quickly wiped them with the back of her hand and tried to compose herself. Her family had been right in telling her not to get her hopes up. She should have listened to them.

There were still some questions that needed to be asked though. 'But, my father said you knew my name. You cried it out in your fever! How would you know?'

'I knew because I was sent here to find you.' Strider looked deep into her eyes and she knew that he did not lie.

'But-what? By who?'

'By Lord Elrond of Imladris and Gandalf the Grey.'

Imladris... she had heard of that place. It was the elvish settlement her father had set out to find all those years ago! Her grandmother had told her that her father had left on the night of her birth to find an elvish lord. That must be the Lord Elrond Strider spoke of. But why would an elvish lord send someone to find her? How would the elvish lord even know of her? Unless...

'My father! My father must have made it to Imladris! Nana told me that that was why he left!' Neniel sat up straight in her chair, her eyes burning bright with excitment. She could feel hope rekindling in her heart. What if her father was living in Imladris? 'Is my father there? Is he in Imladris?' Neniel could not keep the excitement from her voice.

Strider shifted uncomfortably in his bed and dropped his gaze to his hands. 'I'm afraid not, Neniel. Your father has not been in Imladris for fifteen years now.'

Neniel felt the crushing loss for the second time that day. She slumped back in the chair, head bowed, all previous excitement gone from her eyes. 'He-he _was_ there though?'

'Yes. I was not there when he arrived, though I have been told of what happened. He stayed for a few weeks. It had taken him a long time to find Imladris, but when he eventually did he was in quite a state. Lord Elrond helped him to recover, and when he was ready, your father told him about you.'

Neniel raised her head, her eyebrows arched. 'What do you mean he told him about me? He left the day I was born! How would he have known _anything_ about me?' Neniel's voice raised. All the anger that she had been repressing for years was starting to bubble. 'He left! He left _me_! He left after my mother had just _died!_ How could someone do that? What could he possibly have to say about me?'

Strider shifted back a few inches in bed. He looked far from comfortable. It was obvious that he had never had to deal with an angry teenage girl before. He raised his hands, palms facing out as though surrenduring. 'I know this must be upsetting for you...'

'You know? Really? You think you know what I'm going through? I came here today expecting to meet my long-lost father! Instead, I find out that some stranger has been sent to find me by some _lord_, and that my father has not been seen in fifteen years, and I will probably never meet him because he's probably d-dead.' Neniel's voice wavered and the tears threatened to spring from her eyes again.

Strider reached out his hand as though to try and comfort her, but then thought better of it and let it fall to his lap. 'You're right, I'm sorry, Neniel.'

'It's okay,' she said with a sniff, desperately wishing that she had a hankerchief, 'I just let myself get my hopes up again.'

Strider did reach forward this and gently lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes. 'Do not lose your hope, Neniel. Your father may be alive yet. We do not know. It took me a long time to find your village and I am an accomplished tracker! He may be the one to have given up hope in finding you! But one thing Lord Elrond did tell me, from the short time your father was in Imladris, it was clear that he loved you deeply. As soon as he could, he set out again to find you. It may be that he has merely got lost along the way.' Strider gave her a warm smile, and Neniel found herself completely trusting this stranger. She returned his smile and wiped her eyes again.

'Why were you sent to find me?'

Strider sat back in bed again and was silent for a while, as though contemplating his answer. 'Your father came to Lord Elrond with a strange tale. Before you were born your mother had been having some dreams; dreams about you.'

Neniel's eyebrows drew together in confusion. 'How could my mother be having dreams about me if I had not even been born?'

'Some would say they were prophetic dreams. How your mother came to have them, not even Lord Elrond knows. But had them she did and they spoke of you. Your mother was very confused and with good reason, but one thing she did know, was that you were in danger and had to be brought to safety. Voices spoke to her in her dreams saying that you would be safe in Imladris. That is the reason your parents set out. However as you know, things did not go according to plan... You were unexpectedly born and your father could not bring a new born baby with him on his quest to find Imladris. You would have died!'

'But I don't understand, what was I in danger of? What were the dreams about? What had they to do with me?' Neniel was sat ram-rod straight in her chair again, all signs of her previous misery gone.

Strider held up his hands again, 'One question at a time, please. I cannot give you all of the details and certaintly not here, but there is something I need to tell you, though you will not like it.' Strider paused, took a deep breath, then continued. 'I'm afraid, Neniel, that while you are in this village you are in danger.' Strider stopped talking, allowing Neniel time to process this piece of information. Neniel's brow furrowed in confusion.

Before she could start asking questions again, Strider said, 'In the dreams it was said that four children would be chosen. For what I cannot tell you, not here. Besides it would be best that you hear that from Lord Elrond.' It took a moment for Strider's last words to sink in. Neniel had a shrewd expression on her face.

'What do you mean I need to hear it from Lord Elrond?' she asked, suspicion creeping into her voice, 'Surely he's not here with you?' She folded her arms across her chest and sat back in her chair.

Strider was beginning to look very uncomfortable again. He scratched the back of his head restlessly then proceded to fiddle with a ring on his finger. 'No,' he began slowly, as though choosing his words with care, 'He is not here.' Another pause. 'I came here to take you to him, to take you to Imladris.'

Neniel's eyes darkened with anger. 'Well then your journey has been a complete waste of time because I am not going!'

Strider gave a deep sigh and absentmindedly ran his fingers through his shaggy hair. 'Neniel, please just listen.' She gave him another hard stare but allowed him to continue. 'You cannot stay here, you are in danger. There are people out there, Neniel, trying to find you! While you are here, you are in danger.' Neniel had averted her eyes while Strider spoke, but they flicked back to his now, the anger gone to be replaced with worry. Strider held her gaze, trying to communicate the seriousness of the situation.

Neniel swallowed loudly, her eyes roaming around the room, not settling on one thing for too long, until they eventually settled on the hands in her lap. Strider softened his gaze and said quietly, 'This is for your safety, Neniel. I would not ask you to come for any other reason.'

'I still do not understand though, my mother wanted to bring me to Imladris before I was even born because I was supposedly in danger. Well, I have been living in this village my whole life, and not once have I been in any sort of danger.' Neniel raised her eyebrows questioningly at Strider. 'How do you explain that?'

'It... is complicated.'

'I'm sure I will understand,' Neniel said sharply.

Strider hesitated for a second then said, 'I do not think it is wise for me to speak of this, but I will tell you what I can-' There suddenly came a short, sharp knock on the door which then quickly creaked open, startling both Strider and Neniel.

Rowena walked in carrying a tray with a bowl of soup and a glass containing a strange coloured liquid which must have been the medication for Strider. She placed the tray on the table in the room and walked over to them smiling. 'I'm sorry for interrupting, but Strider you need to rest, you are still recovering. Neniel, could you maybe come back tomorow?'

Neniel felt like yelling at Rowena to get out so that she could listen to Strider's explanation, she doubted he would be so willing to tell her after this; she got the feeling that he was only telling her so much because he was tired and ill. She knew that getting an explanation from him would not be so easy in the future.

'Of course, Rowena,' Neniel said, smiling back at her despite her inner frustration. Neniel got up to leave and said goodbye to Strider.

'Holdwyn is waiting for you downstairs, dear,' Holdwyn stated. Neniel expected Rowena to come downstairs with her, but instead she took the seat Neniel had been sitting on, beside Strider's bed. It was obvious that she wanted to speak with him. She raised her eyebrows at Neniel as if asking her why she was not leaving. Neniel got the message, smiled again at Rowena, and left the room.

As soon as she shut the door she heard the voices from the other side. She once again found herself in a position to eavesdrop and gladly took it. Whatever was going on, she wanted to know.

Pressing her ear up against the door she could hear the low voice of Strider saying, '-cannot stay here, Rowena! Not only will she become a danger to herself, but also to everyone else here. She will be coming of age in less than a year! Without the proper training things could go terribly wrong!'

'I know, I know, I just wish it didn't have to be this way.' Neniel could hear the softer voice of Rowena floating through the door. 'I take it she did not respond well when you told her she had to leave?' Rowena's voice had a tone to it which suggested that this was what she had been expecting.

'Of course she didn't, who would? You are going to have to help me to convince her. We have to leave as soon as possible. Every day we get closer to her eighteenth. When she comes of age she will come in to power. Without the proper training, she will become a danger.' A pregnant pause followed this statement.

'Two have been found, have you heard any news of the other two?'

'We have heard something but we are hopefully wrong, it is not good news. We fear that-'

'Neniel?' Neniel quickly turned round. Holdwyn was was coming up the stairs, her expression curious. 'What are you doing?'

Neniel could feel herself blushing deeply. 'Oh nothing, I was just coming down now.' She smiled at Holdwyn, who had stopped walking up the stairs, the curious expression still painted on her face. Any suspicion she felt, she obviously dismissed because she said, 'Could I walk home with you, there is something I need to tell you.'

'Of course,' said Neniel, her own curiosity now roused. The two girls walked down the stairs and out of the house in silence. This silence continued on for some time. Holdwyn seemed to be lost in her thoughts. She was wearing the same serious expression on her face as she had the day Neniel first came to see Strider. Neniel got the feeling that she needed to let Holdwyn speak first.

Her patience was rewarded as Holdwyn said in a quiet voice, 'I am leaving for Edoras in the morning... My father is ill. I recieved the letter this morning. He's going to be alright,' Holdwyn looked into her friends eyes, 'He will be alright, I still need to see him though... Besides I have been away from home for years now, it's time to go back.' Holdwyn looked away, her eyes following the path ahead. 'I'm sorry for leaving, Neniel.'

'Holdwyn, don't you dare apologise! Of course you must go back, he's your father! You go back for as long as you need!' Holdwyn looked down at the path again.

'That's just it, Neniel. I won't be coming back.' Neniel stopped walking, her mind reeling. Yet another blow she had recieved today.

'Not coming back? But-why?' Holdwyn was silent for a while,her eyes glazed over, staring into the distance. Slowly she turned her head and looked at Neniel.

'I've been gone from my family for so long now, Neniel. It is time I went home. Rowena has taught me all that she can.' Neniel nodded her head in understanding, not trusting herself to speak. She could feel her eyes starting to water again. She couldn't even remember how many times she had cried this day. She was surprised she had any tears left. Holdwyn pulled Neniel into a big hug.

Sniffing she said, 'Lets meet at the rock later, okay?' Neniel could feel herself nodding again, still not trusting her voice. At least she still had tonight, there was still time.

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><p>It had been three hours since the two friends had arrived at the rock. They had spent their time laughing, crying, talking of old times. They had even had a small confrontation, but this had been settled quickly. They were now lying in their favoutrite spot, the sun setting in the west. It would be dark soon and they both new that there time together was coming to a close. It did not matter though, they had already said their goodbyes and did not want to have to go through it again.<p>

'Do you think we will see eachother again?' Neniel asked. Holdwyn leaned up on her elbow to look down on Neniel. A big smile played across her lips.

'Of course we will!' she exclaimed, 'I'm certain of it.' She flopped back down on her back.

'Good,' was all Neniel had to say. A comfortable silence reascended. This continued until the last of the sun sank below the western horizon. Neniel knew it was time to go. As she said goodbye to her friend for the last time, she thought about how many more times she would have to do this with the people she loved.

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><p><strong>Okay so I know that so far it's been kinda boring but it will get better soon! Unfortunately I have no chapters left so it might be a while until the next one, I will try to be as quick as possible though :-D<strong>

**Thankyou to my first reviewer, Beatrix Hart :-) I'm glad you liked it. There will hopefully be more soon.**


	4. The Last Day

**I'm pretty impressed with myself for uploading this so quickly :-D Well it was quick for me... It would have been up last night but I watched A Very Potter Musical instead. I love it so much :-D**

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><p>Neniel woke to the sound of rain pattering off the old thatched roof. She could hear the sound of Dérnwyn's light snoring coming from the other side of the room, with the occasional murmur of her betrothed's name. She turned to lie on her side, looking at the dull gray world outside the window. She watched as the droplets pattered off the window, running their trail down the glass. It would be time to get up soon, she could already hear her grandmother bustling around in the kitchen beneath her room.<p>

Her thoughts turned to Holdwyn, she would be gone by now, on her way to Edoras. She had left early, taking the same horse she had arrived on. The village wouldn't be the same without her, though Neniel knew that she wouldn't have much time to get used to this. It would be her turn to leave soon. Neniel thought back to the conversation between Strider and Rowena. She hadn't understood much that had been discussed, but she did learn that if she didn't leave soon, danger would come to the village, and it would be her fault.

After hearing Rowena agree to this, Neniel knew that Strider was telling the truth, and that she really did need to leave with him. It was just hard to come to terms with the thought.

She wondered how much time she had left here. A month? A week? A day? Strider had seemed pretty insistent on getting her out of the village as quickly as possible. Would this be the last time she would wake up in her small yet comfortable bed? Would it be the last time she listened to her grandmother, always the early riser, potter about in the kitchen, while everybody else slept on? The thought of never seeing her family again scared her more than anything. She knew that she couldn't risk their safety though. She would have to leave.

Dérnwyn suddenly gave a loud yawn from the other bed. Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes and peered at Neniel, her eyes half closed. Giving another yawn, she sat back against the wall and smiled tiredly. 'Morning, Nen,' she mumbled, her smile suddenly turning into a frown, 'What in Arda is Nana doing down there? Honestly, she wakes me every morning.'

'Well if she didn't you would probably never get up.' Neniel's tone was a reprimanding one. She sat up in bed, scowling at Dérnwyn as she did so. 'You are too lazy for your own good.'

'I need my beauty sleep, Nen.' Dérnwyn slipped out of her bed and walked over to the vanity table in the corner of the room. There, she began to brush her long, golden hair, admiring her reflection on the mirror. 'You should probably try and get some too, sometime.' Holdwyn had a queer gleam in her eye as she gave Neniel a mischevious smile.

'Ugh, the cheek of it!' Neniel said in mock outrage. 'I wonder what Éogar would think after hearing about his dearest's awful behaviour? I suppose he has only ever met the terribly sweet Dérnwyn, has he not?'

Dérnwyn arched one elegant eyebrow. 'I do not know what you speak of, my dear sister. I am only ever sweet.'

Neniel laughed, feeling her spirits lift. 'Of course you are, sickly sweet when you are with Éogar. It is enough to make anyone ill! Though, I must admit,' she added, a mischevious glint in her eyes, 'you are not half as bad as he is.' Neniel got up from her bed and danced around the room with her arms outstretched, as though embracing a partner. ''Oh Derny, my dearest. I do love you so! Your lips, your eyes, your hair, your _scent!_ There is not one part of you I do not find beautiful! How I wish to hold you forever! How I wish to kiss your-''

Before she could say another word, Dérnwyn jumped up from the chair, grabbing the pillow from her bed as she did so, and proceded to playfully attack Neniel with it. The two girl's laughter filled the room, mingled with muffled cries from Neniel as she tried to dodge the onslaught of attacks and make it to her own bed in order to arm herself.

'Do. Not. Mock. Éogar.' Dérnwyn landed a blow inbetween each word, laughing as she did so. By this time Neniel had managed to scramble to her bed and grab her own pillow. She quickly turned round, pillow in hand, and parried an oncoming blow from Dérnwyn.

'I wouldn't - have to - if he - wasn't such a - sappy - lovestruck -' Neniel did not get a chance to finish her sentence as her pillow suddenly exploded following a rather forcefull collision with Dérnwyn's arm. Hundreds of feathers came bursting out and floated down slowly, covering the floor in a soft, white blanket. Neniel let out a string of curse words. Crawling on the floor, she scrambled to get them all gathered up. 'Help me, would you? That was my only pillow!'

Dérnwyn joined Neniel on the floor and helped her to gather the feathers. 'It's always you, isn't it, Nen?' Dérnwyn recieved a huff from Neniel in response. Sitting on the floor, the two girls gathered the feathers into a pile and proceded to stuff them back into the empty pillow case. Glancing at Neniel, Dérnwyn could see that something was bothering her. The strand of brown hair that fell in front of her eyes failed to hide the glazed, faraway look they held.

'Is everything alright, Nen?' Dérnwyn was looking at Neniel, concern evident in her eyes. Neniel continued stuffing the feathers into the pillow. She tucked the strand of stray hair behind her ear and sat back against the bed.

'I think I have to leave soon,' she said at last, her eyes downcast.

Dérnwyn glanced up from her pile of feathers, a bemused expression on her face. 'What are you on about now, Nen?'

Neniel picked up a feather and twirled it around in her fingers. Her expression was somber, her tone serious. 'Do you remember the Gondorian man who was found by father's patrol? He arrived about a week ago?'

'Yes, of course I remember him. Why?' she asked suspiciously.

'He wasn't just travelling,' said Neniel, still twirling the feather, 'he came here to find me.'

Dérnwyn suddenly sat up on her knees, facing Neniel, a wide grin plastered on her face, 'He's your father, isn't he? I knew he had to be! I overheard father talking about it to mother a few days ago whe-'

He's not my father, Dérnwyn,' Neniel muttered, 'but that is what I had thought as well.'

Dérnwyn's grin vanished to be replaced with a look of confusion. 'I don't understand. What did he come here for then?'

Neniel sighed wearily. Dropping the feather, she watched it float slowly to the ground as she ran a hand through her curly hair. 'It's hard to explain,' she started, 'You probably won't believe me when I tell you, but... he came here to tell me that I'm in danger.' She glanced a look at Dérnwyn, trying to tell what was going through her mind.

'I beg your pardon?' exclaimed Dérnwyn, eyebrows raised so high they almost vanished into her hairline, 'What could you possibly be in danger from here except your own terrible cooking?'

Neniel decided to ingnore that last comment as she said, 'I told you that it was hard to explain, I'm not even sure myself, Strider did not get a chance to properly tell me; he was interupted by Rowena.'

'Who's Strider?' Dérnwyn questioned.

'Strider is the Gondorion,' stated Neniel, 'He-'

'What kind of a name is Strider?' scoffed Dérnwyn, interupting Neniel.

'Dérnwyn, I am trying to tell you something important! I don't think his name is what we should be talking about right now!' scowled Neniel.

'I'm sorry, Nen. I'll listen. Tell me what he told you.' Dérnwyn folded her legs beneath her and listened as Neniel recounted all that Strider had told her the day before; the dreams her mother had recieved before she was born, the countless warnings, the danger she was in, had been in for many years.

What she didn't tell her though, was the part that she herself was not meant to have heard, that because of her, her friends, her family, the whole village, were in danger.

Dérnwyn listened intently, sitting on the floor with her legs crossed, head tilted to the side. When Neniel finished speaking Dérnwyn moved to sit beside her. Placing her hand on Neniel's knee, she said sympathetically, 'Nen, I know that after hearing this you might feel that you have to leave, but you have to think about this!' She looked at Neniel intently as she gripped her knee tighter. 'How do you even know that this 'Strider' is speaking the truth? He clearly has not even given you his real name! He sounds like a very suspicious character to me! You cannot go traipsing off to a foreign land that you are not even sure exits simply because a strange man tells you that you are in danger!'

Neniel scowled at the floor. She knew that Dérnwyn wouldn't have understood, it did not make it any less frustrating though. She was determined to make Dérnwyn understand.

'I know it seems unlikely that Strider is telling the truth, but Rowena trusts him, Dérnwyn, and if Rowena trusts him then so do I!' exclaimed Neniel.

Dérnwyn sat back, withdrawing her hand from Neniel's knee. 'Rowena trusts him?' The surprise in her voice told Neniel that she had not expected this. The two girls had grown up always having Rowena around, almost as though she were a second grandmother. The fact that Rowena trusted this man meant a great deal to the both of them.

'Yes. I overheard her speaking to Strider, she agreed that I need to leave as soon as possible. I think,' she said slowly, 'that this is more serious than we believe it to be.'

Dérnwyn nodded slowly, looking down at her hands. 'I trust you, Nen. I know you wouldn't lie about something of this much importance.'

Neniel smiled her thanks. She felt her whole body relax with relief, she had not even realised how tense she had been; Dérnwyn's trust in her was very important.

'When do you leave?'

Neniel shook her head slowly. 'I'm not sure. I have to go and see Strider today, I guess I will find out then.'

'It will be soon though?'

'Yes, I think he wants to leave as soon as possible.' Neniel sighed her displeasure.

Dérnwyn gave her a sympathetic look which quickly turned into a horrified one. 'You're going to miss my wedding!' she exclaimed, turning around and sitting herself infront of Neniel again. 'This cannot be happening! Neniel, you can't leave! You just can't! You will just have to tell this Strider to wait, you cannot miss my wedding; you are the maid of honour! We have been planning this for _ages!_ I'm sorry but Strider will just have to wait!'

Neniel listened as Dérnwyn's voice became higher and higher as she spoke. Her face was flushed and she was waving her hands around like a mad person, looking very much as though she was trying to swat a fly. 'Dérnwyn, your wedding is in the summer, that is months away! I know for certain that we cannot wait that long. I'm sorry,' she said softly.

Dérnwyn sighed in a defeated manner. 'I understand,' she muttered, 'I just can't believe you won't be there.'

Neniel gave a sudden smile, her expression playfull. 'Look at the brightside; I will not be there to mock Éogar, he will be a much happier man for it!'

Dérnwyn snorted in amusement. 'That's true, I think he will be the only one happy to not have you there!' The two girls laughed at this, thinking back to the many times Éogar had stormed off, red in the face, over something Neniel had said. The laughter died down as Dérnwyn rubbed her eyes, wiping away the tears that had formed. 'I am going to miss you, Nen,' she sighed.

'I'm not going yet! Let's not say our farewells now.' Neniel got up from her seat on the floor and threw her re-stuffed pillow back on her bed.

'You're right,' mumbled Dérnwyn, also getting to her feet, 'No point dwelling on it now. Let's go see what Nana has cooked up for us this morning.'

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><p>Neniel was once again walking the familiar path to Rowena's. Her feet plodded on rythmically as she ambled slowly up the path. She was in no hurry to see Strider again, he could only bring bad news. Dérnwyn had wanted to come with her, but that of course was not possible. She had the feeling that she was not meant to have said all that she did to Dérnwyn, even though she was her sister. Neniel thought it was a shame she could not share all with her family; she had not even told her parents or grandmother that she was leaving, and she was yet to find an excuse.<p>

She had, of course, told them that the Gondorion was not her father. They had acted as expected; her mother and father surprised, her grandmother not so much. What did pick their curiosity though, was the fact that Neniel was once again going to see Strider. She had told them she was merely going to pay Rowena a visit, make sure she was okay now that Holdwyn had left, but she had never been a good liar. They knew that she was up to something.

She eventually arrived at Rowena's and let herself in. She smelt the familiar smell of herbs and spices, one of her favourite smells. Rowena was sitting at the old wooden table in the centre of the room, sipping at a cup of tea. 'Goodmorning, Neniel,' she smiled.

'Morning, Rowena.' Neniel took off her cloak and draped it over the back of a chair at the table and sat down.

'Can I get you some tea?' asked Rowena, getting up from her chair and fetching another cup.

'That would be lovely thanks, Rowena.' Neniel watched as she poured the steaming tea into her cup. 'Would I be able to talk to Strider?' Rowena finished pouring the tea and passed the cup to Neniel.

'He's sleeping at the moment, you can go up soon.' Rowena sat back down at the table and picked up her own cup.

'Did you see Holdwyn off this morning?'

'Aye, it was an early rise this morning for me, but I had to say farewell to my Holdwyn. It was a very sad thing her leaving so suddenly, what with her father being ill and all,' said Rowena with a sad smile.

Neniel gave an irritated noise. 'Not fair is what I call it.'

'Now don't be like that, Neniel. We all knew she would have to leave someday. Besides, there's no saying she might not come back for a visit.'

'Yes, I suppose there is that.' Neniel looked down at the cup in her hands. 'Though most likely I won't even be here to see her.' Rowena gave Neniel a curious look over the brim of her cup, her peircing blue eyes seemed to tell Neniel that she knew exactly what was going through her mind.

'You mean to leave then?' Neniel nodded in response. 'Good,' said Rowena, setting down her cup, 'That saves me a whole lot of hassle. I was not looking forward to trying to talk you into going.' Rowena softened her tone and her gaze. 'You know it's only for your safety that we ask you to do this?'

Neniel waved her hand dismissively. 'I know, I know. Don't worry, Rowena, I know you are not trying to get rid of me,' she teased, her grey eyes lighting up.

'Well as long as you know,' said Rowena, taking a sip of her tea. The quiet of the room was suddenly interupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Startled, Neniel turned round in her chair to see the tall form of Strider standing in the doorway.

'Strider! Don't do that!' Neniel had her hand on her chest, her face shocked. 'You scared me half to death!'

'I apologise if I startled you, Neniel,' grinned Strider.

Rowena shook her head disapprovingly, 'He does that this one, just pops up out of nowhere! Nearly given me a heart attack several times!' Strider laughed and sat down at the table. He looked a lot better than he had done the previous day. His face was less pale and the shadows beneath his eyes were fading.

'I am sorry for any misconveniences I have caused, Rowena. I am used to travelling in a subtle manner.'

'Humph, well I'd appreciate it if you moved with a little more noise in the future,' said a disgruntled Rowena. Strider grinned again, laughter in his eyes.

'I shall see what I can do.' Rowena nodded her approval. Silence descended in the room again, the light mood turning suddenly more somber. Strider leaned forward in his chair, elbows on the table, hands clasped in front of him. There was a tense pause before he spoke. 'I am relieved you have agreed to accompany me, Neniel. I thought it would take much longer to convince you.'

'Yes well, if Rowena trusts you then I see no reason not to myself.' Neniel set her cup down on the table, tracing the outline of the pattern with her finger. She could feel Strider's gaze burning into her. She glanced up and met eyes full of compassion.

'I am truly sorry for taking you away from your family, Neniel.'

'Don't apologise, Strider, I know that it is for my safety.' Neniel really did not need to here another explanation of how it was only out of concern for her that she had to leave, she was really getting fed up with it. She pushed her cup forward and leaned her elbows on the table. 'What I do want to know is when we are leaving.'

Rowena glanced between the two of them and continued to drink her tea. Strider rubbed his chin and sat back. 'Tomorow,' he stated.

'Tomorow?' This was not the answer Neniel had expected when she had asked that question. She knew that Strider was desperate to leave but she thought he would have given her at least a week!

'I know it seems sudden but fear has settled itself in my heart. I feel restless here, like danger is approaching. Those orcs your village patrol found me with were not from Mordor,' Neniel felt a shudder go through her at the mention of that name, 'they were a different breed altogether, sent by someone,' Strider paused, the room was completely silent. He was looking at her again, Neniel could feel it.

'I think they were sent to find you,' he said at last. Neniel's head snapped up, her eyes locked with his. She could feel her face draining of colour. Orcs, sent to find her? The thought was terrifying.

Rowena's face remained impassive, this was something that she and Strider had obviously already discussed before. 'I do not mean to frighten you, Neniel, but I need you to understand the severity of this. We must get you to safety.'

Neniel nodded, too shocked to speak. She lifted a shaky hand and brushed back her hair. 'Tomorow sounds good to me,' she said at last. Rowena reached over and clasped her hand. She gave Strider another dissaproving scowl.

'Would you stop that! You're frightening the poor dear.' Rowena looked back at Neniel and gave her a reassuring smile.

'She needs to know, Rowena,' claimed Strider.

'I know, but you could be a bit gentler about it.' Strider rubbed his face with his hand, clearly becoming impatient. Neniel took a deap breath and tried to reassure herself.

'It's fine, Rowena. I'm fine.' She gave Rowena a shaky smileand turned to Strider, who was watching her intently. 'What time do we leave?'

'As early as possible, sunrise would be best.'

Neniel found herself nodding again. 'If you think that would be best. Though it does not give me much time to say my goodbyes, I shall have to do that this afternoon.' Neniel's head dropped. The realisation that she would be saying goodbye to all that she loved suddenly hit her.

She realised that Strider was talking again. She listened as he told her all that she would need to bring, and what to wear, and where to meet him. It suddenly all became too real, she was leaving in the morning! This was it! She would be saying goodbye to her family today, and of course Rowena. She looked up at Rowena's kind face, the grey hair pulled back into a loose bun, the kind eyes smiling at her in a reassuring manner. Would she ever see her again?

'Neniel?' Strider asked.

'Yes?'

'I said we need to think of an explanation to tell your family.'

'Oh, why can't we just tell them the truth?' Neniel decided to keep quiet about the fact that she had already told Dérnwyn.

'It's too risky.' Neniel opened her mouth to speak but Strider held up his hand before she had a chance. 'I know, you trust your family, but too many people know already. It's best not to take the risk.' Neniel silently agreed. She loved her family dearly, but her grandmother was prone to letting things slip when chatting with her friends.

'What will we tell them then?' she asked.

Strider glanced over at Rowena, obviously another subject the two had managed to cover. 'We thought it would be best to tell them that I am your uncle, sent here by your father to bring you to him. Your father is ill you see.'

'I suppose that could work, but they will never belive me; I am an awful liar.'

'I will tell them,' said Rowena, folding her hands on the table, 'We will go down together and I will tell them.'

'Yes,' Strider said quietly, 'I think that will be for the best.' The silence returned, each one of them left to their own thoughts.

Rowena eventually broke the silence saying, 'We should go now, Neniel, you've been here long enough, we don't want to give your family reason to become suspicious.' Neniel suddenly felt rather sick, this was really going to happen. She stood up on shakey legs and threw her cloak around her shoulders. Rowena walked to the back of the room and collected her own cloak. Strider was left sitting in his chair staring at the table, deep in thought.

He looked up when he realised they were walking out the front door. 'Remember, Neniel, sunrise tomorow.' She nodded and walked out the door into the sharp autumn air, thinking of what the days to come would bring.

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><p><strong>I know , it's another boring chapter... but things get better soon! I promise! They finally get to leave next chapter! It will hopefully be more interesting to write as well, I really struggled with this one. Might not be for a while though... I have many things to do, including my sister's wedding! Can't wait :-D<strong>


	5. A Well Received Gift

**Sorry, it's been a while, but in my defence I did have to go to Spain for a wedding! But I finally finished Chapter Five! Yay! Though I did accidently delete the last half... I was not amused. I had to try and remember it, and needless to say the second edition is not nearly as good as the first was. So if it's a bit crappy you can blame it on my extremely bad mood.**

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><p>Thump. Thump. Thump. Neniel listened to the monotonous sound of her booted feet hitting the dirt path that lay before her. She couldn't have been walking for more than an hour but she could already feel the sweat dripping down her back, causing her shirt to stick to her skin.<p>

They had left later than Strider had intended to that morning; her family had held them back, not wishing to say that final goodbye. By the time Strider had managed to pull Neniel away half the village were up, going about their morning routines. This, of course, had not impressed Strider, who had wanted to leave in secrecy, but he did tell Neniel, in a somewhat sulky voice, that these things rarely worked out for him.

So the village had watched, peering from behind their curtains, the bravest even daring to stand in their doorways, as Neniel and Strider set off with their travelling gear on and packs on their backs. They had all worn the same curious, mildly suspicious expression on their faces, and often Neniel thought that they were going to approach to question what was happening, but the grim prescence of Strider seemed to keep them at bay.

Neniel stumbled along behind Strider, dragging her tired feet along the dusty road. The straps of her pack were digging into her shoulders and the morning sun was glaring fiercly at her. Strider, it seemed, was unaffected by the harsh heat of the day; his pace remained swift and his breathing even.

Neniel could take it no longer. She slumped her heavy pack to the dusty ground, sat on a nearby rock, and took out her waterskin. She gulped down the warm water, soothing her burning throat. Relief. She set her water skin down in the grass beside her and brushed her sweaty hair out of her eyes. Curse the weather for being so hot on the day they left!

A dark shadow suddenly loomed over her. She looked up sheepishly to see an angry Strider looking down at her. 'Why have you stopped?' he asked. 'We have a long way to go before we may rest.'

Neniel looked at him exhaustedly, her mouth hanging open. She knew she must have looked ridiculous but she was just too tired to care. 'Strider, I'm exhausted. The sun is blaring, I cannot continue! I'm not used to walking any longer than the length of my village!' She took a last swig of her waterskin before placing it back in her pack.

Strider sighed in frustration. 'I realise that it is not ideal weather for us to be travelling in, but...' He held his hand above his eyes, sheilding them, and looked up across the sky, 'it will turn cooler in the afternoon. You will just have to stick it out until then I'm afraid. Trust me, you will get used to it.'

Neniel gave Strider a withering glare, her grey eyes narrow slits. 'I should not have to get used to it! I should be having my breakfast with my family now! Not trudging off on a stupid journey in the blazing heat with a man who won't even let me take a short break to drink some water and try to cool off!' She knew she was acting spoilt and rude but her head was thumping as though her brain was trying to burst through her skull.

Strider sighed again, looking around at the wide, open plains of Rohan surrounding them. 'Alright,' he eventually said, 'we can take a short break, though let us move off the road. There,' he pointed to a cluster of large rocks some distance to the left, 'we shall rest over by the rocks.' He made his way towards them then turned and said, 'Do not get used to this, Neniel. I only take pity on you because it is your first day.'

Neniel glared at his retreating back while she stuffed her cloak into her pack. 'I don't need your pity, stupid man,' she mumbled under her breath. 'Gods above! All I asked for was a little break and he acts like the world will come to an end!' She heard Strider calling her name impatiently. _'I'm coming!'_ she all but screamed. She flung her pack across her shoulder and stomped over to where Strider was sitting. Flinging her pack to the ground she sat back against the rock furthest away from him and glared. Strider stared back at her coolly.

'You should cut your hair,' he said in an off-hand voice. Neniel's hand immediatley moved to her long, curly brown locks. They were her only feature she did not wish she could change. Before she could protest Strider said, 'It would help to keep you cool. It is far too long, it will only become unmanageable soon.'

'I am NOT cutting my hair,' she growled.

'Suit yourself,' he shrugged, 'but trust me, you will want to soon.' Neniel eyed Strider's own head of scruffy hair and vowed silently to never let that happen to her own. They sat in silence, the occasional sound of a flock of birds overhead the only thing to interrupt. Neniel's thumping head began to calm down. _Finally,_ she thought it would never end. The soreness in her limbs was the only hurt remaining.

A faint breeze stirred through her hair, the weather was cooling. Neniel felt herself relax, she was feeling a lot better. She decided it would be best to try and make conversation with Strider, after all, she would be travelling with him for what could be a long time. She eyed the strange man closely. He was sitting against the rock, long legs stretched before him. His eyes were fixed west in what Neniel assumed was the direction of their journey.

Neniel cleared her throat, wanting to get his attention. He slowly dragged his eyes away from their road and turned to face her. 'How long will it take us to reach Imladris?' That question had been at the back of her mind all day.

'I cannot accurately answer that question,' Strider sighed. 'It depends on many things, the weather, for example,' he added with a grim smile.

Neniel scowled at him in frustration, she was fast becoming tired of his riddle-speach. 'Have you no estimation?' she questioned in an irritated voice.

'With the route I plan to take, our journey will take us several weeks,' he stated, looking down at his clasped hands. 'However should we be detoured it could take more.' Neniel's shoulders slumped, she could barely take one hour of walking let alone several weeks.

'What is the route you plan to take?' she asked, her tone mildly curious. She might as well know where they were travelling through. Her geography was not in top form, she had had no need to learn the maps her father kept in his room, but she knew she could recognise the areas in Rohan.

Strider took a moment, contemplating his answer. 'We will travel west until we reach the Fords of Isen, there we will cross through the Gap of Rohan and travel along the Old South Road where we will come to the Greyflood. After that we shall be in lands unknown to you, but fear not,' he said, giving her a small smile, 'I know those lands well. I shall guide you safely to your destination.' Despite Neniel's mistrust of this stranger she could not help but feel comforted by his willingness to keep her safe. She smiled back at him, her irration leaving.

'Come,' he said, getting to his feet. 'We need to be leaving now. We have a long way to go before we may stop for the night.' As quick as her peaceful mood came, it left. She slowly stood up, stretching her back and preparing herself for the walk to come. Strider made his way back to the old dirt path, his tattered cloak blowing behind him in the breeze and revealing the long sword that hung from his hip. Neniel watched it gleam in the sun as she followed behind him. Maybe she too should be armed. Strider had talked of foul orcs becoming more numerous. She nervously glanced around and quickened her pace to catch up to Strider.

'Strider?' she asked timidly. 'Should I maybe have a weapon?' Strider glanced back at her.

'Do you know how to use one?' Neniel caught up to Strider and was now walking beside him. She focused her eyes on the path ahead.

'Well... no,' she stated, feeling her face grow flushed. She shouldn't have asked, it was a stupid question. She had only made herself feel foolish.

She expected Strider to laugh at her but he did not. Instead he said, 'I think it wise that I teach you how to fight.' He looked up from the path, eyeing the empty plains surrounding them distastefully. 'You need to know how to defend yourself.' His voice was grim and his eyes hard. Neniel looked back down at the ground, trying to swallow her fear. Strider's tone did not reassure her. The empty land surrounding suddenly seemed to be full of danger, the silence unsettling. She moved closer to Strider. 'We shall start tonight.'

As the afternoon turned to evening the two travellers found shelter beneath a small copse of trees. Neniel sat down, exhausted. She removed her pack and lay down on the grass, stretching out her weary legs. She could hear Strider moving around, sorting out their camp for the night. She knew she ought to be helping but was finding it difficult to get up. She rubbed her eyes and sat up. She had never felt more tired in her life. Her limbs felt heavy and useless and she could barely keep her eyes open.

Strider had managed to catch a small rabbit earlier in the day and was now preparing it by the small campfire. Neniel watched as he prepared a stew, the smell of food wafting through the air. She was starving. Her utter exhaustion and aching body had distracted her from her empty stomach. Right on cue her stomach gave a loud rumble, penetrating the silence. Strider looked up from the pot and smiled knowingly. 'It won't be too long now.'

Neniel shuffled forward, wrapping her cloak around her. The air had definitely cooled. Strider reached for his pack and took out two small bowls. Serving up the stew he handed Neniel her meagre portion which she took greedily, just managing to say thanks before shovelling the food in her mouth. She dreaded to think what her mother would say if she could see her now. Still, she had never been this hungry before and she did not think that Strider would take too much offense. She managed to finish the stew - if that was what you could call it - in a matter of minutes. Wiping her mouth on the back of her sleeve she said, 'For all your apparent skills as a traveller you're not much of a cook, are you Strider?'

Strider looked up from his bowl and grinned, 'I take great offense at that,' he joked.

'So is this the type of cuisine I shall be dining on for the next several weeks then?' asked Neniel, eyebrows raised.

'It will all be worth it when we reach Imladris, just you wait and see. All thoughts of my delightful cooking shall be forgotten.' Strider grimaced as he finished his last mouthful and set down his empty bowl. 'The sooner the better.' Neniel laughed and moved to help clear up. Packing away the now clean bowls Strider asked, 'Shall we start your first training session now?' Neniel looked up confused but then grinned as she remembered. Her exhaustion and weary body had not only driven thoughts of food from her mind, but also Strider's promise of training.

'Of course, let's start right away!' She bounced up from her seat on the grass, all traces of weariness gone. She had always wanted to learn how to fight with a weapon. She had asked her father countless times if he could teach her but he always responded in the same way, telling her that she had no reason to learn how to fight; the men of the Mark protected her village.

'Have you ever sparred before?' asked Strider, moving their belongings to the side.

'My sister and I used to use long sticks and pretend they were swords, but that is it,' she admitted. Strider nodded and brought out a small dagger from his pack.

'You need to learn how to hold a weapon properly if you are to use it successfully.' He moved to stand beside Neniel. 'You are right-handed?' Neniel nodded. He carefully held the dagger, handle outwards, towards Neniel. She took the dagger in her right hand. Strider then positioned Neniel's hand on the handle, moving her fingers to their correct place. Strider had her practise this for a while; Neniel putting the dagger on the ground and picking it up again, making sure that she was handling it correctly. 'Very good,' said Strider after a few minutes. 'You have got it. The handling of a sword is much the same, mind you that is only for a one-handed sword, but you won't be dealing with that for a while.'

'Why not?' Neniel exclaimed, mindful of the dagger she held in her hand. 'I thought you were teaching me how to use a sword?'

Strider chuckled to himself. 'All in good time. You are not nearly ready to use a sword, you would only hurt yourself. It is best we start you with a dagger. Though-' he added as an afterthought, his face set in a frown, 'maybe not a real one just yet.' He took Neniel's dagger and sheathed it before placing it back in his pack. Neniel scowled at him. 'We shall use this,' he said, handing Neniel a short stump of a branch the length and width of the dagger. 'It is not ideal,' he hesitated, 'but it is the only thing I have for now.'

'This?' questioned Neniel disbelievingly. 'It is a branch.'

'Yes,' retorted Strider, looking for another one similar in size. 'You cannot learn with a sharp blade, you would definitely hurt yourself.' He continued foraging beneath the trees. 'It would be much better if I had blunt weapons with me, but alas, I did not think when I packed for this trip. Ah!' he said triumphantly. 'Got one.' He turned to face Neniel holding onto his newly found 'weapon'. He then placed it with his belongings. 'I will not be needing it yet, I have yet to teach you the basics.'

Neniel groaned, this training session was not going how she had imagined. 'Patience,' smiled Strider. 'If you are to have any skill with a blade you have to learn from the beginning. It is no use grabbing the handle and swinging it wildly without any clue as to what you are doing. We must do this properly.'

Neniel was running, her feet flying across the forest floor, dodging between the trees, leaping over anything that came in her path. Thorns clawed at her face and arms but she could not feel them, only the beat of her heart in her chest and the adrenaline pumping through her veins. She could hear clashes and screams coming from some distance behind her, the noise of metal on metal and the shouts of battle. She heard her name being called, someone shouting for her, telling her to keep running. She recognised the voice yet could not place it.

Then things started to go wrong. Her legs suddenly felt heavy and sluggish, she was no longer flying across the ground. It was as though she were trying to run through water, try as she might she could not get her legs to move quickly. She couldn't understand. She was starting to panic, the voice was still yelling at her to run, but she couldn't, she just couldn't.

The effort of trying to move through this invisible force became too much for her. Her knees gave way and she sunk to the ground. The noises were still as close as ever, it was as if all that running had got her nowhere. She closed her eyes, defeated.

Someone was shaking her, calling out her name. Was it the same person? She couldn't tell. 'Get up, Neniel!' they cried.

'I can't,' she moaned, 'my legs do not work.' The shaking continued, a tight grip on her arm.

'You must get up now, Neniel.' Neniel opened her eyes and was immediately blinded by sunlight. She rubbed her eyes and groaned. Strider was kneeling over her looking very frustrated. 'Finally!' he exclaimed. 'We have to be leaving.' He stood up and began to cover the ashes of their campfire.

Neniel groaned again and sat up stiffly. She had never had a dream like that before. She tried to think it over but she was fast forgetting it. The more she tried to hold onto it the faster it slipped away, it was like trying to hold water in her bare hands. She looked over at Strider who was gathering his belongings, his back to the sunrise. Sunrise! It couldn't have been long past dawn. No wonder she was so tired.

'Strider, why are we up at this ridiculously early hour of the morning?' asked Neniel, rubbing her tired eyes again. Strider gave her an exasperated look.

'This is the time we shall be getting up at every morning, Neniel, so you had best get used to it.' Neniel grumbled to herself, her mood was never a good one in the early morning.

Half an hour later they were packed, breakfasted, and on their way. Neniel's aching limbs protested as she tried to keep up with Strider. If possible she was even more tired than she had been the day before. This was due to her training with Strider the previous night. Neniel grimaced, remembering all the moves and techniques Strider had taught her, not to mention all of the different positions and stances she had to learn. Learning to fight was definitely not as easy as Neniel had thought it was going to be. Neniel hurried her limping steps and tried not to think about what the next lesson would bring.

The days continued in this routine; they would rise early and continue walking, then in the evening Strider would continue to teach Neniel. It was a lot of work but Neniel could already feel the improvements; she had much better strength and her stamina had greatly increased. Despite this though Strider would still not let her use a real dagger.

They had just reached the Old South Road and were now walking its vast length. Strider guessed that it would take them up to three weeks until they reached the Greyflood. Neniel was frustrated by this; she was anxious to see what lands lay outside of Rohan. Despite all of her complaints about having to leave, after hearing all of Strider's tales of the north she couldn't wait to see it for herself. She was beginning to think that this journey was really awakening her sense of adventure.

Her eyes had really been opened to the beautiful land in which she lived. She had spent her whole life in her small village, never once venturing out. She was now awestruck by the magnificence and sheer size of the world. She could see a vast mountain range to the east, travelling far off into the distance. They seemed to go on forever. 'Those are the Misty Mountains,' said Strider who had noticed Neniel admiring them.

'Of course,' Neniel muttered to herself.

'They go on for a thousand miles, from Methedras above Isengard all the way up to Carn Dum in the far north.' Strider's keen eyes roamed across the length of the mountains. They held the same admiring look as Neniel's. Strider suddenly tensed, coming to a halt. His hand reached beneath his cloak to the hilt of his sword as if on instinct, his gaze was locked on a distance in the north, where the land was jutted with an expanse of large, rocky hills.

'What is it?' asked Neniel. She could see nothing but a brown, rocky landscape, but she could tell that something about the area was distressing Strider.

'I am not sure... It could be nothing, but I had better check to be certain.' Strider dropped his pack to the ground and moved forward slowly, his grip tightening on his sword hilt. He turned back to look at Neniel. 'You stay here.' Neniel nodded and watched Strider slowly make his way across the rocky land. She didn't know what Strider was worried about but she felt scared, a new type of fear that she had never felt before; danger was near. The wind suddenly changed and Neniel could here it; the sound of foul laughter in the air. It was coming from around the corner of a large cliff, the direction Strider was heading in.

Neniel had never heard orcs before, but she was sure that those horrid noises could not have been coming from anything else. Fear clawed at her heart, her mouth felt dry. She watched as Strider crept closer and closer still. She didn't know what to do. She couldn't just leave Strider to fight alone! But what use would she be? Of course she had improved in her fighting skills, but not to the level that she could partake in what would probably be an extremely dangerous fight. She had not even earned the right to carry a proper weapon, she still had the lump of wood in her pack!

She watched as Strider stopped before turning the corner. He slowly, silently drew his sword from its sheath. Then he was gone, turning the corner and facing the enemy. Neniel could confused cries followed by shouts and clangs. She could take it no longer. She would not just leave Strider to fight alone. She ran up to the cliff, jumping over the rocky ground, taking care not to trip. She stopped where Strider had done and peered round the edge. She could see the tall form of Strider. He was surrounded by such hideous creatures, the like of which Neniel had never seen before.

So these were orcs... Her father had not done them justice in describing their true horror. Neniel counted six of them in total, but she could see two disfigured lumps sprawled on the ground at Strider's feet. She watched as Strider raised his blood-stained sword before turning and stabbing it through the chest of an orc. Swiftly withdrawing it he swung it through the air, slicing off the head of another behind him. Neniel could hear the cry of death coming from those putrid lips before Strider's blade had even hit its mark. Without lowering his sword Strider parried the next blow, twisting the orc's cruel looking weapon and dissarming it, then drawing his sword across the throat of his attacker, the blood soaring in a graceless arc. Strider's face was drawn in a snarl, he looked vicious and blood-soaked. He grabbed the lifeless corpse before it could fall to the ground, and used it as a shield against the brutal thrust of another orc. He then kicked the surprised orc to the ground and stood on it's neck.

There were only two orcs left. Strider slashed the shorter of the two across the stomach and it fell to the ground, twitching repulsively. The remaining orc was the most vicious of the lot - it was clearly the leader. Strider and the massive creature became locked in a heated battle, ducking, thrusting and swinging their weapons, fighting to kill. Vicious snarls were emanating from the orc. Neniel suddenly noticed movement coming from the bloody ground. The short orc was still alive! It reached a bloody hand for it's mean-looking dagger and slowly staggered to its feet. Strider did not notice, he was still engaged with the leader. Neniel had to do something! But what? She had no weapon!

She quickly looked over the ground and saw a jagged-looking stone the size of a fist. She had no other choice. Running out from her cover, she scooped up the stone and swiftly crept up on the short orc. She could feel the sharpness of it in her hand, it felt good, reassuring. The orc was advancing on Strider. Raising its weapon it went to thrust it in Strider's back, but before it had a chance, Neniel ran up and using all of her strength, smashed it into the creature's skull. She could feel the hard bone caving in and the warm blood rushing over her hand. She gagged as a grey liquid seeped out of the wound, mixing in with the darkness of the blood.

Strider had managed to behead the leader by this time, and had turned round to see an orc, weapon raised, ready to strike him down, before stumbling to its knees and crashing to the ground. Neniel stood there, bloody fist in the air, still clutching the stone. Strider was standing before her, a look of utter shock on his bloody face. 'Neniel!' he eclaimed. 'I told you to stay behind!'

'I was not just going to leave you!' Neniel retorted. She suddenly realised that she was still holding the bloody rock. She threw it on the ground, disgusted. 'That orc was going to kill you.'

'I must thank you then, Neniel. You saved my life.' Strider smiled warmly at her before wiping his sword clean with a filthy rag. He sheathed his sword and sighed as he looked around at the strewn bodies. 'We'll have to burn them,' he muttered. Grabbing one of the bloody corpses by the ankle Strider proceeded to haul it over, piling it atop another orc. He continued to do this until he had formed a bloody mass of bodies. Neniel felt nauseous. Her stomach began to heave and she ran behind a rock, emptying the contents of her stomach. Something wet had formed on her face, whether it was tears or sweat she did not know. She had just taken a life! She could still feel the crunch of bone caving in beneath her hand, the feel of warm blood flowing over her, staining her hands crimson.

She sat back and took a deep breath. It was over now. She could hear the faint sound of Strider moving around where she had left him, but above that, closer to her, she could hear a light trickling. She got to her feet and slowly made her way to the source of the noise, following the curious sound. She gasped in delight at the sight that greeted her - a small stream was running its course through the rocky land. She had never before been more pleased to see water - she could wash away the horrid cake of dried blood that stained her hands! Even now she could smell its rusty tang in the air.

Dropping to her knees before the stream she washed away the blood, watching the crimson run through the water until it eventually vanished. When she was had removed all the blood she made her way back to Strider. As she turned the corner she could smell smoke in the air - Strider's small mound of bodies was burning. She coughed as the smoke hit the back of her throat, stinging her eyes. The smell quickly turned from that of smoke to a putrid stench. The smell of burning flesh soon filled the air. Neniel tried not to breath it in, she could feel her stomach starting to heave again. She had never smelt anything worse in her life!

Running over to Strider she grabbed him by the hand and started to pull him away, she could not stand to be in the foul place a moment longer! 'Let's go!' she cried. Strider nodded and together they made their way back to their path.

That night their camp was grim. They had no fire to warm their hearts - Strider had worried there might be more orcs around and he did not want them to be found. Neniel had not argued.

Strider sat opposite her, moving his whetstone slowly across the blade of his long sword. Neniel watched him as he worked, his face intent, his eyes locked on the sword resting on his knees. Without looking up he said, 'I have something for you, Neniel.' He set down his sword and reached into his pack pulling out a slim object the length of his forearm. It was a dagger contained in a beautifully crafted sheath. Strider gazed at it lovingly. 'This was my very first dagger,' he said softly, 'given to me by my father when I came of age. See here-' He moved closer to Neniel, taking the dagger out of its sheath and showing her the blade where a strange word was carved elegantly onto it, running down its length. 'Estel, it means hope in the elvish tongue. It was the name I went by as a child. This blade has saved my life many times,' he murmured softly, still gazing at the beautiful weapon, 'and now I am giving it to you.' He looked up at Neniel and smiled, placing the dagger in her hands.

Neniel stared at it in disbelief. 'Strider, I cannot accept this! It is too much!'

'I promised to give you a dagger when you were ready for it, Neniel, and now I believe that you are. Please, take it. It is my gift to you.' Neniel wrapped her shaking hands around the hilt and picked it up. It was surprisingly light. She grinned widely - it was perfect! She suddenly lunged herself at Strider and wrapped her arms about his neck, mindful to place the dagger on the ground before she did so.

'How can I ever thank you, Strider?' she asked, being careful not to get too carried away and strangling him.

'You saved my life today! I think that's thanks enough.' Strider laughed into her hair.

'How about we call it even?' Neniel asked, removing herself from around Strider's neck and sitting back in her original seat.

'That sounds good to me,' laughed Strider. Neniel gave him another huge grin and then picked up her new dagger and examined it closely, taking in every little detail. Strider had obviously kept it in very good condition, there was barely a scratch on it! She finally had her long-saught-after weapon. It was certaintly the best gift she had ever received.

Strider watched her admiring it with an amused expression on his face. 'You can stare at it some more tomorow, Neniel,' he grinned. 'You need to be getting some rest now, you have had a long day.'

'Alright,' sighed Neniel, still gazing at her dagger. She eventually sheathed it and carefully put it in her pack, though not before retreiving her branch and hurling it into the trees. Good riddance! Rolling out her bedroll she said goodnight to Strider and settled down for sleep, still grinning widely. The day had definitely improved.

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><p><strong>Tada! Sorry for the abrupt ending but I did not have the patience to write any more so it was this or nothing. Hopefully the next chapter won't be too far away... But I am an incredibly slow writer. I'm going to throw in the old saying here, but reviews really will get you a faster update! :-D<strong>


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